Red Eyes of Flame
by edpevensie246
Summary: Rafael and Phoenix have been fighting vampires for years together, as have their families. But what will happen when one of them might become a vampire?


Rafael stumbled through the dark alleyway, a sharp dagger clutched in his fingers. His breathing was heavy, and tears streamed down his face. His only words were, "Must call her…have to call her…", and nothing else escaped his lips except broken sobs. A cold, menacing figure flew over the alleyway, black wings making _whoosh_ sounds through the chilly night air. Its shadow blocked out the moon, and everything turned dark as Rafael reached a dead end. He turned as the figure swooped and landed on the ground, wings closing in behind the figure's back. The moon was full, and Rafael could hear howls of werewolves in the distance. _If only they were closer_,_ they could defeat him._ Rafael clutched his knife tighter in his hand and closed his eyes and prayed. When he opened them again, the figure was four feet away from him.

The vampire sniffed the air and licked his lips, sharp fangs glistening in the moonlight. Blood tinted them, as if Rafael was just a midnight snack (literally). It rasped something under its breath and closed the distance between them, muscles bulging from beneath its hard, granite skin. Rafael shivered as the night demon grew closer and as the air around him grew colder. He was armed, yet he was no match for this bulking demon from hell.

"Do you fear death?" it asked.

"N-n-n-no...," Rafael squeaked, his knife beginning to slip from his fingers. And yet, he knew it wasn't true. He did fear death. For years he had been escaping it. His family had been allies with the werewolves and the vampires for generations, but that didn't stop the attacks. Most vampires didn't know who he was, but he could defeat most of them with a little help. But tonight, he was alone.

A howl came from across the street. The vampire stopped in its tracks and turned, its eyes widening as it caught glimpses of lurking shadows. They were coming for it.

Rafael grinned. The vampire would be no match for the werewolves that were coming to save him. It would be torn apart into pieces and burned, just like every other vampire he'd killed.

"You're too late," he said, and the vampire growled, its eyes burning with anger. It swerved to face him and hissed, but Rafael did not move.

"I should've killed you already. You kill my brothers. You rape and murder my sisters. I cannot help but want revenge," it rasped, coming closer.

_Damn_, Rafael thought, _an angry vampire isn't easy to defeat._ A howl broke the silence, coming from just outside the alleyway. A werewolf turned the corner and stopped in its tracks at the sight of the vampire. It snarled and howled again, alerting its pack mates that he had found their pray.

"My revenge cannot be taken," the vampire whispered sadly, "I have failed." Rafael suddenly felt sorry for it. It would be killed, but its worthlessness would last for centuries, clouding all bravery and triumph with its name.

The werewolf snarled again and suddenly it was flanked by two more. Two more came after, grumbling and snarling. Rafael shrunk back. Maybe they didn't know who he was. Maybe they wanted to kill him instead of the vampire.

But Rafael knew what they wanted. They wanted to rip the vampire to shreds and then bow to him. They would call him Lord and Vampire-Slayer, and then they would scamper off as if nothing had happened.

The werewolves attacked. They leapt into the air and galloped down the alley, closing in on the vampire with their teeth bared. The vampire faced them sadly, its hands at its side, and its black wings spread open and flapped. But they did not lift him into the air. Instead, they broke at their bases, disintegrating into dust as they fell towards the ground. The werewolves jumped onto him, and Rafael looked away. He did not want to glance upon murder.

When they finished, Rafael gathered up broken boards from the alley and pulled a lighter out of his pocket. He lit the boards and threw the pieces of the vampire into the fire, the flames turning black from its remaining venom. He looked down at the ground, feeling intense pity for the vampire. It would not be returning home.

The werewolves bent their heads in honor of him, but he could feel no pride. He only felt remorse for the murder of another vampire. He hated watching vampires get killed, even for good reason. The werewolves ran off, leaving him staring at the burning wood of a murderous fire.

Phoenix drove down Fifth Avenue, Rafael in the passenger's seat of her Volvo. He hadn't spoken since she'd picked him up from the alley. He usually wasn't like this; he normally would get over murdering a vampire in about ten minutes, but not this time. This intense silence had been going on for nearly an hour.

"Rafael," she said, "The werewolves killed it. It wasn't your fault. They have no logic."

"It was sent to kill me," he whispered in reply, his voice cracking, "It was supposed to take revenge on me. It had a family. It had a home. And I murdered it."

"You shouldn't be feeling sorry for a blood-sucking murderer," she scolded, "You had a right to kill it. It was going to kill you."

"Still," he sighed, "I should've listened to its story."

"You're lucky the werewolves were even there!" she shouted. "Weren't you scared?! Didn't you want to kill it?!"

"At first I did, but then it had to face the werewolves and it said it had failed."

"Rafael, that vampire was going to kill you. Get that into your thick head!"

"It doesn't matter. It had a home. Now I don't feel like I have one for murdering it."

"You were honoring your family," she whispered, regaining her control, "They kill, you kill, I kill. That's the way it works."

"Vampire venom runs in my veins! Did you ever think of that?!" he yelled, turning to face her, "My great, great, grandfather was a vampire! I am part vampire!"

"Your family to protect the humans that walk this earth. It couldn't be more simple then that," she sighed, trying to calm him down. She understood that he was part vampire, and she understood why he . But why would he be feeling so bad about it?

"I just don't want to murder them anymore. I want there to be peace between us."

"That's not going to happen," she sighed, "It will never be possible, and you know that. It's time to stop wishing and start doing what you need to do to protect your family."

"I guess you're right," he whispered. Phoenix sped forward, leaving the blinding lights of New York behind.

Phoenix pulled up to the brownstone three-story building that was Rafael's house and put the car in park. She planted a kiss on Rafael's cheek and wrapped her arms around him and laid her head down on his shoulder.

"I hope you feel better," she whispered. He opened the door and pried her arms off of him and scampered up the stairs to his house. She reached across the seat and pulled the door shut and straightened her hair, a single tear rolling down her cheek. She wished she had never said anything.

As her car sped towards home, her fingers tightened on the wheel, and sobs broke from her chest, her voice cracking as she spoke into the air, "I shouldn't have said anything; I should never have said anything. Oh god, I hope he's okay." At that moment, her cell phone vibrated in her pocket, and she wiggled her hand in to pull it out and flipped it open.

"Hello?" she asked, clearing her throat when her voice came out wrong.

"Can you come back?" It was Rafael. "I need company. My family isn't here except for my psychopath little sister."

"Of course; I'll be there in about fifteen minutes." She made a U-turn and hit the accelerator, hanging up on Rafael as she did.

"I hope he's okay…he better be okay," she whispered to no one, steering past all manner of cars to try and get to Rafael's house as quickly as she could, avoiding going over the speed limit so she wouldn't get arrested.

When she pulled up to the brownstone for the second time, Rafael's "psychopath" sister was on the stairs, glaring at her with her arms crossed. Phoenix got out of the car and jogged up the stairs to face the little girl.

"He's inside," she grumbled.

"What's wrong with you, Alice?" Phoenix asked, puzzled at her unusual behavior. She was usually a very happy person.

"Rafael called me a psychopath," she whined, pouting.

"Aw, he's just a big brother," Phoenix chided, comforting the 10 year old. "It's natural."

Phoenix stepped through the door, leaving Alice grumbling on the stairs, and made her way up to Rafael's room. She opened his door and stepped inside, marveling at the contrasting colors inside. Rafael gazed up at her from his bed, sadness in his eyes. She shut the door behind her.

"I'm glad you came back," he whispered, "Because I have to tell you a secret."


End file.
